Beautiful Cruelty
by Queen Overlord
Summary: A reflection on how Dolores became Umbridge.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Umbridge (not that I'm complaining), or anything from the Harry Potter series.

**Author's Note:** It was odd writing an Umbridge-based story, but I feel like it turned out relatively okay. This was written for the Fanfiction Scavenger Hunt Competition and the Prompts Mania Challenge on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum.

**Prompts:** #6. A character you hate/Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey, Fuchsia, Venomous, "You look like a princess."

* * *

Salmon colored walls, meowing kitten portraits, rosy drapes patterned with fuchsia flowers; to the students of Hogwarts, it was straight from the page of a horror story.

But to her it was home.

She sat perched upon her coral cushioned seat, hands folded in her lap, and her eyes unmoving from the student before her. She watched as the young lad shifted uncomfortably, sweat dripping from his brow. She watched as he gulped, clearly unnerved by the pinkness of the room; how sweet and innocent it was, yet somehow so _fitting_ for the temporary Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It was the physical embodiment of her personality; a metaphor for her sugar-coated evil. Yes, most students were severely disconcerted by the setting, but it was no match for the unwavering gaze of its owner; Dolores Jane Umbridge.

Oh how she _adored_ making them squirm.

The boy shifted again, and his knee began hopping up and down at a million miles per hour. He was ringing his hands nervously. His brow knitted together in worry and concern. The two had been sitting there for nearly twenty minutes already, and not a word had been spoken. Dolores thrived off of his discomfort. Every facial quirk, every little action he performed in uneasiness, made Dolores feel all the more powerful.

This caliber of evil did not come without its origins, however.

There was no such thing as a good enough excuse, of course, for how she treated those around her. The pure and utter joy she derived from torturing students and coworkers, much like how she was torturing the student before her, was disgusting- that much she knew, and that much she had long since accepted. But there was a reason, nonetheless; a reason that was worth considering.

"Tea?" she queried, lips parting to form a sickly sweet grin.

The boy shook his head.

She poured him some anyway.

You see, Dolores was not always the ugly little troll that she had come to be. Though a budding vileness had been hidden within her from the start –such an inhuman development was not possible without one- it had more or less remained just that; hidden within her. Instead she had exhibited the same self-control as any other sadistic, sociopathic, or otherwise wretched, beast that functioned in society. But even if she had shown her true colors, there was a good chance that it would have gone ignored or unnoticed anyway.

She pushed the tea cup toward the boy.

He shook his head again, eyes wide.

"I insist," she purred.

Because the young Dolores Umbridge had been one of the most angelic, elegant, and drop-dead gorgeous women anyone had ever laid their eyes on. A petite frame, long chestnut locks of hair, wide blue eyes, full lips; she was everyone's type, everyone's crush, and everyone's idol. Her true personality was forgotten, in favor for the one she was artificially assumed to have by her peers. She need not lie, she need not act; she simply had to smile and she would get what she wanted. Her life was the one that all the girls strove for, and she got it without striving.

The boy's hand shook violently as he lifted the cup to his lips.

Dolores tilted her head to the side.

Scalding hot tea splashed onto the boy's hand, but he barely noticed.

Not everybody aged gracefully, however. She was around thirty years old when her appearance started to deteriorate. Her body began carrying her weight differently, her hair thinned considerably, her mouth widened into a scowl, her eyes bulged and drooped; it was as if her appearance was suffering from long-term exposure to her true nature. And so, enduring through the existential crisis her change caused, Dolores desperately attempted to latch onto anything that made her seem young and girly. Pink, kittens, doilies, frills; the whole shebang.

"Do you know why you're here?" Dolores questioned.

The boy nodded his head, eyes filling with tears.

Dolores carefully set a couple sheets of paper in front of him, along with a single quill.

The final turning point was when her then husband suggested a divorce, but he never crossed their house's threshold- well, not alive, anyway. The illusion of Dolores' inner beauty had diminished completely. Her Doctor Jekyll was gone forever, leaving behind the grotesque Mr Hyde that was her more honest identity. The shift in how people viewed her took its toll, and her initial selfishness evolved into pure, unadulterated malevolence. She became the disgusting toad she was infamous for being, and no longer cared about hiding her inner ugliness. What was the point, if both her outside and inside matched? Before it was the boys swooning over her that made her feel powerful, but now it was the way they trembled in fear and derision.

The boy was crying now.

Dolores stared at him with wide, innocent eyes.

He sobbed as what he wrote on the page became etched in his skin,

Deep beneath all the spite, however, she genuinely longed for her youth; her long lost beauty. The anguish she felt from its dissipation was what truly fueled her ire. She would never admit that to herself, of course. Nor to anybody else- and it wouldn't matter if she did. She was too far gone to get even an _ounce_ of remorse from someone, no matter the person. The world was a terrible place, and would never forgive her for no longer being pretty; that was how she saw it. Kindness and nobility meant _nothing_ if you weren't aesthetically pleasing, so why bother? Not to mention it was much more fun to be cruel.

Dolores Umbridge tittered wickedly as the boy stumbled to his feet. She simply watched on with a tight-lipped smile, as he pushed his chair back and made a b-line for the door.

"Tsk tsk," she chided. She shook her head once the boy was gone, retrieving the blood quill from where he had left it. She tilted her head to read the piece of paper he had written on, the dark red words that came together to form '_I must not teach my peers inessential Defense_ _spells_' over and over again. She grinned.

Oh yes, it was much more fun to be cruel.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you enjoyed it :) Feel free to leave a review! xoxo


End file.
